


The Sound of Thunder and Other Nonfiction

by manicpixiedream



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicpixiedream/pseuds/manicpixiedream
Summary: Arcadia Bay has always been a weird town. After the tornado hit in 2015, nearly half of it was wiped out. Thanks to the kind sponsorship of the heiress of the Prescott fortune, not only was the town able to bounce back under new management, but so has Blackwell Academy. The Blackwell Academy class of 2020 is here to take Arcadia Bay by storm... but history tends to repeat itself, doesn't it?





	1. Chapter 1

 

“Welcome to the all new Blackwell academy! I, Kellyanne Wells, and everyone here  _ sincerely _ hope you enjoy your partnership with us in the pursuit of education! Let’s get out there and make a statement!”

 

You applaud right along with the rest of the students there, all filled with enthusiasm for not the actual opportunities they’d be getting, but the Welcome Back, Blackwell! party that the brand new UZUMAKI Club was hosting only an hour after this very speech. Kellyanne Wells ate up the applause anyway, smiling and blushing as she clapped directly into the microphone. Talk about reverb.

 

“I don’t think I have to say how lucky we were to receive the sponsorship we did from none other than Kristine Prescott. Without her Arcadia Bay Relief fund and forward movement in the city council, we’d have no Blackwell, and I wouldn’t be able to follow in the footsteps of my father. Kristine, would you like to say a few words for our 2020 class?” She sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes.

 

Kristine Prescott. What a joke. You hadn’t been in Arcadia Bay long, but you knew a capitalist hack when you saw one. And with her slightly graying blonde ponytail and perfect contour, Miss “Charitable Donation” really screamed corporate to you. She smiled, stepping up and plucking the microphone right off of the stand like she was about to give the TED Talk of the year. 

 

“Thank you, Kellyanne. It really can’t be stressed  _ enough _ how delighted I am to play a role in preserving the history of Blackwell Academy. As you know, my family has played a part in cementing the reputation of this wonderful establishment for generations, and I like to believe we’re also cemented in the history. Blackwell  _ is _ the Prescott family, and it is my sincerest pleasure to be here today.” She pulled the principal into a hug, who blew her nose into a handful of tissues and went to sit down beside the stage, waving at her eyes.

 

“How are we today?” Kristine said with an air of enthusiasm, met with mixed responses from the crowd. “I don’t think I heard that… I said, how  _ are _ we today, Blackwell Academy?” She held out the mic, and a roar from the crowd made you cringe and laugh dryly, shaking your head.

 

“Talk about cheesy.” A voice said from beside you. You turned to see a tall, wiry girl with dyed silver hair and round shades pushing her way to stand next to you. “Who is she even fooling?”

 

“No clue.” You scoff and look over at her. “We all know the Prescotts are heartless hacks.”

 

“Right?” The girl snorts. “I’m Chou Uzui, by the way. My friends just call me C.C., though… it’s better than  _ butterfly _ .” She looks at you and smiles. “You’re here for photography and development, yeah?”

 

“I  _ was _ here for film and design, but… They put me in the wrong class.” You smile sadly. “I guess I can’t shoot moving pictures until I shoot still ones, right?”

 

“Hey, that’s what I like to hear. Make lemonade out of those lemons, baby.” C.C. grins and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s your name, Spielberg?”

 

“Lumin.” You giggle and look back at the stage just as Kristine Prescott started telling a story about the last class to attend the old Blackwell Academy, something about tragedy and the tornado that ripped the school to shreds. “My friends just call me Lu, though. Or Spielberg, I guess.”

 

“Sweet. Wanna ditch? I’m getting pretty sick of listening to Legally Blonde.” Her fingers wrapped around your elbow and you nod once before she starts towing you out of the crowd, pushing past students who only scoffed and shrugged you off.

 

You were nearly out of the crowd when someone shoved you back. 

 

“Oof!” You crash back into C.C., who falls into a stoner with a skateboard. The girl who pushed you had cropped blonde hair and a perfect red manicure. She scoffs in disgust and says something you can’t hear, but the way her lips are moving, it looks like she called you a clumsy bitch.

 

“I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to run into you… Are you okay?” You tried talking, but this steady ringing started in your ears just as you opened your mouth. At first, you thought it was microphone reverb, but you realized that it was coming from  _ her. _ The louder it became, the more it blocked out everyone else, but the clearer  _ her _ voice became.

 

“... Watch where you’re going. … Are you listening to me? … God, what is  _ with _ the fashion here? Did I fall asleep and wake up in an alternate universe where no one can dress but me?” Your vision was boxing as you watched her talk, furrowing your eyebrows.

 

“I… What?” Your head was  _ pounding. _ “I can’t… Fuck.”

 

“Wait, you can hear me?” Her thin eyebrows furrowed. “Holy fuck. You look like you’re going to be sick. Don’t throw up on me. This sweater is  _ cashmere. _ Read my lips. Cashmere. That’s worth more than your pathetic college fund.” She continued talking, and the pain in your head only grew. 

 

The ringing was  _ so _ loud.

 

“Who…?” You blinked at her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Her voice was growing distant again.

 

“Who am I? It’s V--... Ch--… Ge--… Wh--... --ver.” She stormed off just as the ringing began to subside. Your ears popped, and the crowd came back into focus. You stumbled straight into C.C.’s arms.

 

“Woah, are you okay?” She blinked, and began to tow you away from the crowd. “Dude, you just zoned out  _ hella _ hard. You kept muttering things, and I thought you were talking to me, but…” 

 

“I don’t… feel so good.” You looked up at her, and she rose an eyebrow.

 

“Your nose is bleeding, kid. Come on, let’s find you a nest to roost in. I’ve got you, Lu.” She dragged you off by the arm, and you followed behind weakly, thinking in a strange, feverish haze that she’d look good with blue hair.

 

* * *

  
  


“Pose!”

 

An instant after C.C. opened the door, a flash made the both of you jump. There was a laugh, and you both looked up to see the guidance counselor, pointing a rather expensive looking camera at the two of you.

 

“Ah, sorry, girls. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He offered an apologetic smile, sitting the camera aside. “I’m starting a project! Taking a picture of every new student to commemorate the grand return of Blackwell, or… something like that. If you don’t want that featured, I’ll toss it.” 

 

“Uh, I don’t mind… Sorry, I thought this was the nurse’s office.” C.C. said, and you glanced up at the guidance counselor thoughtfully. He was a pretty good looking guy, with expensive taste, and a love of photography. He was this famous blogger or something, according to the grapevine. You didn’t really care about that. 

 

“No, that’s alright. What’s going on?” He took a step forward, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Let me help you.” Gently, he put a hand under your arm and helped C.C. move you to a chair in front of his desk. “Just a nosebleed, or...?”

 

“It just… collapsed. Wouldn’t respond and kept muttering…” She looked over at you and pursed her lips. “Didn’t you say it was like, ringing in your ears?”

 

“Sounds like a panic attack.” The guidance counselor nodded sagely and handed you a box of tissues. “Those are for the nosebleed: that might have just been due to heat and stress. You know what they say, global warming will kill us all. What’s your name?”

 

“Lumin...” You looked up at his face, processing his sharp jaw and slight beard, when suddenly your head began to pound again. “Fuck… Headache.”

 

“Ah, C.C., would you mind getting Miss Lumin here a water bottle from my fridge over there?” He pointed to a mini fridge beside his desk, and she nodded, jogging over to it as directed. “Perfect. Can you tell me when the ringing started, Lumin?”

 

Mulling his question over, your eyes moved to his desk and nameplate. Mark Jefferson was what he was called, apparently. Bland enough name. C.C. returned with the water bottle and handed it over. You took a sip and squeezed your eyes closed to will the headache away.

 

“I just… Saw this girl in the crowd. It sounds crazy, but when she talked, the ringing started. It was like I could only hear  _ her. _ ” You swallowed thickly. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Nothing is stupid, Lumin. I promise.” Mr. Jefferson crouched in front of you to reach your eye level, looking concerned. “You’re awfully pale… I have a chaise in the back, if you think you need to lay down.”

 

“No, I’m okay…” You looked up at him, locking eyes through his glasses, and something like… panic began to set in. Your heart rate picked up, and you didn’t know why, but the sudden urge to leave became almost overwhelming. “I’m okay. I-I... think it was just the heat.” You stood up, or tried to, when his hand moved to take your arm gently.

 

“Are you sure, Lu? You really should take it easy.”

 

“Yeah…” C.C. furrowed her eyebrows. Her sunglasses were hanging from the collar of her tank top, worry in her dark brown eyes. Her eyeliner was so good… even with mascara smudged around her under eyes from the sweat. “You should probably chill out for a bit.”

 

“No, I-I’m okay... Thank you for the water, Mr. Jefferson. I think I just need to wash my face in the bathroom.” You put the water down in your seat and nearly stumbled over yourself in an effort to get out. C.C. followed you, saying something else to Jefferson you didn’t process before jogging to catch up with you, already halfway down the hall.

 

“Dude, what the hell? What got into you back there?” She looked over her shoulder.

 

“I don’t know… I just didn’t want to be there. And I always follow my intuition… Bathroom now?” You were already making a beeline for the girls washroom. She sighed in defeat and nodded.

 

“Yeah, shit. Just like in high school. Here, let me.” C.C. went ahead to pull open the door, and you ducked in the bathroom just under her arm. She followed after you, letting the door slowly close behind her and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve only known you for an hour and you’ve dragged me around half the academy… Fastest tour guide ever.”

 

“I’m sorry…” You leaned against a sink, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms. “I don’t normally cause this much trouble. I’m a very quiet pet.” She snickers and walks to the sink next to you, turning on the faucet and wetting her fingers to rub at the mascara under her eyes.

 

“As long as you don’t shit on the carpet, I  _ guess _ I’ll keep you.” She sniffed and pulled her hair back away from her neck after trying to remove the excess mascara proved futile. Her hair was so  _ long _ , reaching just past her middle back, bright silver. It was a strange color, but it looked good on her.. “And, not to sound cheesy or anything, but… It feels like we were almost meant to meet, you know? So, yeah. I don’t mind you dragging me around half the academy.”

 

“Best tour guide ever?” You grin, turning on the faucet to splash a bit of water in your face. She snorts, grabbing a paper towel.

 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She wiped at her under eyes, balling up the paper and tossing it into the bin after. “But… seriously, are you gonna tell me about what happened outside?” She appeared in the mirror beside you, her hand pressing against your back as you scrubbed at your face, running your hands under the faucet.

 

“Uh, fuck… I don’t even know how to get into it. It was probably nothing, honestly. Maybe Mr. Jefferson was right… I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but I don’t know how else to describe it.” You sigh and stand up straight, looking at your reflection in the mirror and blinking hard. “Maybe I just need to go back to my dorm and lay down. Actual classes don’t start until tomorrow, right?”

 

“Yeah… I know where the dorms are. Hey, maybe yours isn’t too far from mine.” C.C. offers a grin that you can’t help but return. Her cheekiness was infectious. “We can be roomies, or whatever. Plus, I smuggled a coffee machine into my dorm. You like coffee, right? Tell me you like coffee, or we can’t be friends.”

 

“Of course.” You snicker, nodding your head and turning to her. “I can’t survive without my morning matcha frap…” Your voice trails off as you spot something strange over her shoulder. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light catching something and making it shine, but now you could see it was a bright blue butterfly, fluttering along behind the stalls.

 

“What?” C.C. turns at once, and looks around in confusion. “What are you lookin’ at, kid?”

 

“Do you not see it?” You furrow your eyebrows, pointing directly at it. “The butterfly?” She turns back to you, worry in her deep brown eyes once again. 

 

“No… There’s nothing there, Lu.” She says in a quiet, measured tone. You blink in shock, then stammer as you try to explain to her that the butterfly is right there. When you look back, there was no butterfly. Nothing but a steady, soft, fading ring in your ears.

 

What the hell was going on today?

 

“Here, come on. Let’s get you to your room, okay?” C.C. pushes you gently in the direction of the door. “Maybe you just need some Z’s. How much sleep did you get last night?”

 

“I… don’t know.” You admit, rubbing at your arm and letting her lead you out of the bathroom. “My parents drove me all the way here… So I slept in the car. I didn’t keep track…”

 

“That explains it!” C.C. laughed, almost in relief. “You’re just exhausted, kid. Sleep will do you some good.” You laughed too, realizing the logic in her words, and started to feel just as relieved.

 

This would all be a funny dream in the morning, and you would feel much better after sleeping.

 

* * *

  
  


In your dream, you weren’t yourself, anymore. 

 

The girl you were was much smaller than you, with brown hair instead of your own dirty blonde, and a love of jeans that you didn't share. She carried a polaroid camera in her bag, and her best friend was named Chloe Price. 

 

She was watching a girl named Kate fall from the roof of Blackwell Academy. She heard the sound she made when she hit the ground over, and over, and over. 

 

The rain beat down cold on her neck, and time and time again, she ran to stop her, but her movements felt so sluggish, it was like wading through molasses.

 

By the time she reached the roof each time, Kate was falling again. A gasp from the crowd below. The dull, meaty thud of her body on the concrete and the crunch of her bones was horrible.

 

Over, and over, and over again.

 

When you woke, you called out to Kate, your voice ringing out in the darkness of your dorm room. You didn’t know who she was, but a cold sweat was clinging to every inch of your skin, and tears clammed up in your throat. You hugged your knees to your chest and buried your face in them.

 

You didn’t know who she was.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

 

You were so distracted by that dream that you couldn’t get back to sleep.

 

You focused on getting ready for classes, as there wasn’t much else to do. Despite it being around three in the morning when you gave up on sleeping again, you grabbed your bath bag from your unpacked boxes and left your dorm room to find the showers. 

 

The hallway was pitch black, but thankfully your phone flashlight was bright enough to light your way. A few of the other girls were awake, if the dull orange lamplight from under the doors was anything to go by, but none of them had thought to leave their dorm rooms yet.

 

The air of anxiousness was something you could relate to, but not for the same reasons. Everyone here was ready to kickstart the year, but despite your best efforts to remain enthusiastic, yesterday’s events and the dream you’d had only made you wish for a fast end. 

 

The shower room was just as dark as the hallway, but after a bit of moving your hand around the wall beside the doorway, you found the lightswitch and flipped it on. A gasp left you, as for an instant, it looked almost like someone was standing at one of the sinks, brushing their teeth.

 

Though as soon as your eyes adjusted to the light, you realized that there was no one there, and had never been. Giving a deep sigh, you stuffed your phone in your bath bag, and made your way to one of the shower stalls.

 

Pulling the curtain to, you stepped into the stall and closed it behind you. The dim lights overhead pulsed in their bulbs as you undressed, peeling your pajamas off and dropping them into your bath bag to be put on again after. Just as you turned on the water, you heard the door open and shut quietly outside.

 

Soft padding across the floor, followed by the quiet noises of a bag being sorted through. You tried to tune it out and focused on your shower, wetting your hair and letting the water wash away the sleep and worry from the hours before.

 

You fished your shampoo out of your bath bag and squirted some out onto your palm, beginning to run it through your hair as the girl outside started brushing her teeth. You didn’t pay it any mind, scrubbing at your scalp and letting your mind wander.

 

The door opened and shut again. The girls who came in this time, however, loudly made their presence known.

 

“Hi, Kate!”

 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Not only did that name drive railroad spikes right up through the soles of your feet and straight into your heart, but the voice sounded so familiar. You focused on rinsing the shampoo out as fast as possible so you could get a look at who was talking. 

 

“What’s up?” 

 

“... School…” The voice that responded was so meek and quiet you could hardly hear it over the sound of running water. 

 

“Love your porn video, by the way. I can’t believe you set a tongue record on camera.” You finished rinsing your hair out and peeked through the crack in the curtain, but found in shock that  _ you _ were the only one in the shower room.

 

There was nobody else there.

 

“What the fuck…” You muttered to yourself, standing back under the stream of water, and scrubbed at your face with both hands. This was getting seriously weird. You couldn’t chalk that up to lack of sleep… Maybe you needed to visit that guidance counselor again.

 

But going to the guidance counselor on the first day of classes sounded like it would set the wrong tone for the year, and for you as a brand new student. And what could he even do? Give you water, and let you lay on his chaise? ...Send you off? 

 

The thought of more hospitals made you shudder. You made short work of washing your body and cut the water, grabbing the towel you’d brought with you and beginning to dry off. You had no intention of going back down that road. It was just sparse sleep, stress from the new environment, and your psychosis acting up. Panic would only worsen your symptoms, so you elected to take a few deep breaths, and go on with your day.

 

After you redressed, you left the shower stall and brushed your teeth at the sink. It was only four thirty, according to the clock on your phone, so no one was really up and at em yet. You had a moment to yourself, and you spent it studying your face in the mirror.

 

Your eyes were deep blue and surrounded in cow-lashes, a bit sunken in with light bruising on your under eyes. You were suffering a minor break out from the stress, but it was nothing your skincare regimen and light concealer couldn’t take care of. The thought of doing a full face of makeup everyday gave you nightmares, but today, you had the time and means.

 

After spitting your toothpaste into the sink, you turned on your phone flashlight and made your way out of the shower room, bath bag in hand. Now, almost every light was on under every door as girls started to rouse. Not wanting to meet one of your classmates with damp hair and under eye baggage, you hurried to your room and went inside again.

 

You liked to believe your interior decorating skills were decent. Your dorm room was definitely your own, and that’s what mattered. A simple desk was set up under the window, with a desk lamp and file organizer, among other cutesy stationary you’d collected over the years. Your personal laptop was open on the desk, an old Wacom tablet plugged into it as your school laptop sat in your office chair.

 

Another, smaller table sat on the other side of the desk, with a dark blue crushed velvet table cloth draped over. A deer skull you’d bought ages ago from a thrift store grinned at you from it, as well as an old candle box of various herbs and spices, four different sketchbooks of various ages and emptiness, a cup of pens and pencils, assorted crystal points and your divination tools. 

 

You moved your sketchbooks to your desk while it was on your mind, and replaced the empty space with your incense burner. Your cup of pens and pencils came next, replaced with a miniature armoire, filled with various incense and trinkets. This table was your altar. You’d been a practicing Pagan witch for years now, and while actual time for spells came few and far between, it was still your favorite part of your room. 

 

Besides that, there was a simple black pull out couch against the wall. A fluffy white blanket with brown faux fur around the trim was draped over the back. A matching faux fur throw pillow was propped against the metal couch arm, along with a smaller pillow in the shape of Stitch’s head, from Lilo and Stitch. These were well loved items you’d collected over the years, and had for a long time before finding their way here.

 

Your closet was filled with boxes you hadn’t unpacked yet, mostly your clothes and makeup. Class didn’t start until nine in the morning, so while your hair air dried, you set to the task of pulling each box out and beginning to unpack them. You sat down on the couch to do this, pulling a box in front of you and pulling out clothes.

 

Your bed was already made with a heavy white duvet and brand new sheet set, gifted to you by your grandma before you came here. You had already gone to the effort of hanging up a few posters (mostly 80s flicks you loved, The Lost Boys, Clerks, Bill & Ted…), and paintings you’d made over the years. Your fairy lights twinkled, filling the room with pale, warm light.

 

An old, well loved pink rabbit with floppy ears and a bowtie laid against your pillows, right next to a fluffy pink and white panda. Vanilla and Strawberry had been your best friends for two years now, after you bought them together the day after Valentine’s Day in 2017.

 

Once you’d sufficiently unpacked around half of your boxes and filled your closet to capacity, (leaving only boxes filled with various oddities, like power cords and assorted discs of the film and video game variety) you picked out a simple outfit and started on the dreaded makeup of the day.

 

While you loved doing makeup on others, you were no good at doing it on yourself. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. In reality, you were probably pretty decent at it. But, as the saying goes, you really are your own worst critic. You sat down on the floor in front of the full length mirror propped against your wall (which you really ought to hang up), and got to work.

 

About the time you were blending out your concealer, a knock at the door jolted you back to reality. You look over just in time for a tall blonde to poke her head in. She was gorgeous, like a Plastic from The Mean Girls, with a warm, beachy smile.

 

“Hey, there.” You offered, and she waved.

 

“Hi! I hope you don’t mind, I was just bringing around welcome baggies, courtesy of the UZUMAKI Club. My name is Rosie Lewis! I’m just at the end of the hall.” She let herself in, showing you a basket full of plastic goodie bags. “You’re Lumin, right? That is  _ such _ a cool name. Where should I put your baggie?”

 

“Uh, on the couch is fine. Next to Stitch.” You smile and point her in that direction.

 

“Aww, hi, little guy!” She sits the baggie down and looks around. “I  _ love _ your room. It’s so lived in looking. Is that a real deer skull?” She pointed at your altar, and you expected a look of disgust on her face, but only picked up on excitement. “I hunt too! My family is from Georgia. Where are you from?”

 

“Arkansas.” You put your blending brush down in your lap. “He’s real, but I got him from a thrift store. I’m sure  _ someone _ hunted him though. My eyes are too bad for shooting guns.” You shrug. “Nice to know someone else here is from far off, though.”

 

“Oh, you know it. At least we have something to talk about!” She grins, waving enthusiastically. “Nice meeting you, Lumin! Oh! Before I forget…” Rosie takes a bright pink flyer from her basket and hands it to you. “You’re cordially invited to the UZUMAKI Club Welcome back Blackwell bash, in honor of the old owner. That’s this afternoon, by the way.” She presses a hand over her heart. “Back when it was called the Vortex Club, it was a nonprofit volunteer club led by none other than Nathan Prescott. Forever in our hearts, rest in peace.”

 

“Nathan Prescott…” You look down at the page with pursed lips. “I’ll think about it, yeah. That’s kind of morbid, though, don’t you think?”

 

“Maybe, if you think of it that way.” Rosie twirled her blonde hair around her finger. “I think it’s what he would want… Kristine agreed. He was a big party guy. Really cute too… Is it weird to say I’d date a dead guy?” She laughed and you did too, though only for courtesy. “I love the eyeshadow, by the way. Depending on the lip… you might be cordially invited to the VIP sec, too.” She winked.

 

“Haha, oh man… I don’t know about that. Sounds like nothing Nathan Prescott would want.” She fish out a nude matte lipstick and hold it up. “Is this VIP worthy?”

 

“Oh, yeah! That’s exactly what I’d choose.” She giggles. “Good enough for me. Welcome to the VIP section, Lumin.” She slides a lanyard from over her head and tosses it to you. You catch it, blinking. Did they really just hand this stuff out? “The UZUMAKI Club needs to be more… diverse, you know? Than the Vortex was, at least… No disrespect to Nathan. Plus, we need to expand, you know?”

 

You nod, and think to yourself that she says “you know” an awful lot, before she smiles and waves again.

 

“See you, Lulu! Maybe you’ll come to the UZUMAKI Club meeting after class on Wednesday… I’d love to see you there.” She winked before taking her leave, shutting your door behind her. 

 

You look down at the lanyard. The strap was rough textured and pale blue, with a plastic sleeve at the end. The card inside was an illustration of a silhouetted girl being sucked into a pink and blue spiral; despite this, she was painted with a huge smile, as if she were having the time of her life.

 

You shrug and take the card off of the cord, attaching it to the zipper of your messenger bag, next to a heavy padlock, used to function as your bike lock. You go back to your makeup, putting on the nude lipstick that earned you a position in the infamous UZUMAKI.

 

Must be some kind of lucky lip color, and you needed all the luck you could get.

 

* * *

  
  


Classes were pretty standard. Each went over the syllabus for the year, with basic introductions and a rather easy lesson or two. You finished each with no homework, and kept to yourself for the most part.

 

You shared Photography and Development with C.C., who wore her sunglasses through the whole class and spent most of it trying to keep from falling asleep. But she sat at your table with you, which was more than you could ask for. The teacher as an eccentric type, something-something Chase. He was older and more distinguished, having had his photographs featured in an art gallery his family owned. That was the most you knew of him, other than his waxed mustache and salt and pepper hair alongside an affinity for blue plaid suits.

 

You and C.C. left the class together, syllabi in hand and making your way to your locker. She shrugged off using her own, saying she’d just throw everything under her bed and forget about it. You rolled your eyes at that and pulled your locker open as she leaned against the wall next to you.

 

“Are you going to the party tonight?” C.C. grinned and held up the lanyard around her neck. Looks like she was going to the VIP section too. You showed her your bag and shrugged.

 

“I guess so… I mean, are they handing these things out?” You looked down at the plastic sleeve and she shook her head.

 

“No way, dude. I’ve only seen, like, four other people with these things. I can’t believe you got one.” You shot her a look and she waved her hands. “I mean… no, like… Not because… Whatever! Don’t look at me like that!” You rolled your eyes as she scoffed, and shoved your Photography textbook into your locker.

 

It was slowly starting to stack up with various other subjects, and you regretted taking such a heavy course load. You swung the locker closed and started making your way down the hall.

 

“What are we even supposed to wear? There wasn’t exactly a dress code on the flyer.” You muttered this more to yourself, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. C.C. shrugged in your peripheral vision.

 

“I guess that’s for us to figure out.” She stretched her arms over her head with a soft groan. “Mm, maybe it’s some kind of test.”

 

“Great. More tests.” You roll your eyes. “Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Then we can meet up in your dorm to pick an outfit for you.” You honestly just want a moment to yourself. You knew you were acting like a bitch, and you didn’t want to take out your stress on C.C. anymore than you already had. She seemed to like that idea.

 

“Oh, shit, sure!” She grinned wide. “I’ll see you then. I’m glad you’re feeling better by the way, kid.” She waved you off before jogging towards the front doors, pushing her way out to head to the dormitories, no doubt. 

 

You shrug your bag onto your shoulder and start towards the girls bathroom, when someone suddenly shoves past you. You stumble to the side, a hand moving to your shoulder with a hiss.

 

“Hey--!” 

 

The guy who shoved you ignored you, donning a red varsity jacket and light brown hair, heavily gelled. He yanked the door to the girls bathroom open, to your confusion, and slammed it shut behind him.

 

Well, shit. You couldn’t go in there, now.

 

You started towards the front doors in defeat, before remembering that it was the  _ girls _ bathroom, and you had more of a right to be there than that clown did. Who did he even think he was? You were going to go in there, and pee, and stick it to him. 

 

“Yeah.” You nod to yourself, hyping yourself up before storming towards the girls bathroom. By now, the congestion in the hallway was starting to thin out, with only a few stragglers hanging around by the lockers or buying confection from the vending machines. No one, from the looks of it, witnessed Varsity Jacket entering the girls bathroom.

 

You yank open the girls bathroom door just in time for--

 

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!!”

 

There was a crash and a loud ringing. The fire alarm blared, but it was drowned out as that ringing returned in your head. A gun flew across the ground as a girl (C.C.?) with blue hair pushed past you, dashing out into the hall. It was  _ so _ loud.

 

Behind the stalls, a girl with brown hair and a love of jeans you didn’t share peeked her head out. A blue butterfly fluttered by behind her. Just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. She looked  _ so _ much like you. The fire alarm just kept ringing. Your head was pounding.

 

That left Varsity Jacket on the floor, a gun just within his reach, but he made no effort to grab it. He just laid there. At first, you thought that the girl might have knocked him out (she looked so much like C.C. …), but when you stumbled closer, you saw that his eyes were open.

 

He was saying something. You couldn’t hear him. You felt so dizzy. Your hand tried to paw for the paper towel dispenser, but you couldn’t get a good grip before you fell to the ground. His voice clicked into focus just before your head cracked against the floor.

 

“... I’m not taking the fall for this.”

 

Your eyes fluttered closed. The last thing you saw before passing out was the boy retrieving the gun and stepping over your body on his way out of the girls bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While official history in a given reality remains consistent with respect to physical evidence, reality shifts and Mandela Effects are often like splicing two reality strips together. So at a certain point of a reality shift, the official history matches the “new” reality strip’s history.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea that people are born and reborn―that we all have had past lives―dates back at least 3,000 years. Discussions of the subject can be found in the ancient traditions of India, Greece, and the Celtic Druids, and reincarnation is a common theme among New Age philosophies.


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